Chapter Text
“It is said that when an object is treated with care,
A soul will come to inhabit it.”
The street was buzzing loudly with many people. A man with dark sunglasses or a young girl running—both had an objective. The numerous graffiti on the walls of the street stared at the monotonous cars passing.
Another small group of young adults passed by a dirty and sinister alleyway, ignoring what could reside there. But not entirely—they just couldn’t care less if a rat or two scurried from out of there; the guards would easily take care of them.
Normal citizens mostly brushed off places like this. Dark twists and corners that led to a lot of trash cans and black bags filled with the waste they thought they wouldn’t need anymore. It was very foolish of them, really.
“So, when trash is thrown out,
What comes to inhabit it?”
A screech of white seagulls flew away in unison. Some two women dressed in clothes of the same light colour approached with sealed bags. They carefully put them into the can without touching any disgusting things by accident… or they might buy a new outfit.
Somewhere inside a spacious house nearby, another girl was getting fakingly upset.
“Aw, it’s all ruined,” she mumbled, looking down on the slightly torn bunny. Her mom leaned above her.
“And we had only just bought it, too,” she replied, also examining the toy. “We can try fixing it, but that’ll make it look ugly.”
She tensed up as she sadly looked at it for a maybe-last time. The mother softly pressed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.
“Let’s throw it away,” she nicely suggested. “Then, we can go and get you a new one.”
After rubbing her eyes, the girl nodded. Her mother’s proposition was for the best, probably.
A short few minutes had passed while the woman put things she considered useless in a transparent bag.
“I want a kitty cat this time,” the clueless lass added as they were walking away. Her mom softly laughed in response.
“Of course, dear," she said.
Somewhere outside the spacious house, the mother threw away the bag into a pit. It led to an underground tunnel. In it, there were trucks filled with waste.
The woman walked away while humming a happy tune, unaware of the hooded and masked individual far behind her.
“Humans think nothing of turning an object into trash.”
The crimson red trucks rolled together toward an attention area. They were incredibly loud in this wide area—and incredibly easy to track.
Standing on top of it all this mess, was a young person. They wore thick black gloves with a circular metal pendant on them for protection. Or decoration. A dirtier outfit like the family stayed on his limbs as what they called clothes.
“To dismiss it as filth,
Never to hold any value again.
They do this to other humans, too.”
The said person cleanly parkoured over the attention area. They jumped down clumsily, then started running toward a huge door.
Near room 006, a black-haired guard heard something. He walked up to a door and carefully peaked inside. He squinted, trying to get a hold of the dark with his eyes. Suddenly, he retracted. A second later, he busted through, holding a gun in hand.
“Hold it right there!” He yelled at the intruder.
The squatter—that was searching for an unspecified bit—ignored his dangerous warning.
“Now turn around. Only authorized personnel are allowed back here."
They turned around, finally acknowledging him.
“You’re that trash raider, aren’t you?” The pissed-off guard spat out. “Don’t you know holding onto garbage like that threatens to sully our clean, beautiful city?!”
As he finished the sentence, he hardly slammed a red button on his right with the butt of his gun. Immediately, a loud alarm blared throughout the facility.
“Hands up where I can see ‘em!” He roared as other men came to back him up.
In a jiffy of a surprise, the individual harshly threw multiple fragile garbage bags at the few guards. They quickly ripped apart, making disgusting things fly everywhere around the team.
“Get it off of me!” A man shrieked after falling on his spine and seeing goo similar to wet leftover food way too close to him.
As the three were distracted, the intruder nimbly climbed on the small garbage hill. One yelled at them but they got inside the vent opening. They agilely crawled through it, swiftly getting to another chamber. They ran toward a closing automatic metal door, but to no avail—even more men came running. The only way out now was to start running the other way.
The guards from before caught up to them. One commanded:
“Open fire!”
Bullets came soaring to the person’s head at full speed. Even though it was not safe here at all, the continued sprinting away from the gunfire. Right before they jumped over a tall wall, a bullet hardly grazed their shoulder.
“I saw him go down here.”
“I don’t care what it takes.”
“He is not getting away.”
All useless things the security guards said as they chased the very air in the, oh so, wrong direction.
On the overworld of the city, a sewer hole cover was opened from the inside by a teenager.
“What a bunch of shitheads,” he said, pulling back his beige hood and unveiling his pretty neat hair. He glanced around, making sure no one saw him. “Yeah, I’m the asshole.”
Sitting on a white and golden pristine bench, was a musician. He played the accordion, soothing the people around the fountain and near the square. Clean seagulls come and go here all the time—they have taken quite a liking for his music.
Silently listening in the shadow of a tree, stood a man with short and messy navy-blue hair. Even the birds flew away when they saw him.
He held a pen and a notebook. Nothing much, probably scribbling something down there.
“Oh, did you hear? There was another trash raid last night," she stated. "Can you believe it?"
“No,” the woman answered her friend. “What kind of sicko would run around stealing someone else’s garbage? I bet it was one of those people.”
The second woman tugged her elbow and referenced the man with the notebook. He noticed and slowly walked away into the warm sunset—only to be blocked by buildings hiding the horizon.
“See what I mean?” She continued.
“Filthy. All tribesfolk are like that.”
“Why can’t they stick to their side of the wall?”
The tribesperson ominously walked to the mentioned wall. Once he reached a golden-barred door, he tugged away his journal in his breast pocket. He pushed it open, no key needed.
He entered. It was a truly clear difference between this side and the other side. Here was so much more polluted. Notably because of the cityfolk putting all their trash here and making people live in it. Dirtier clothes hung to dry on an old washing line. Around them, there were container-like houses where the poor lived.
“Seems like the whole city’s yakking about it,” a wanderer whispered to his buddy.
“Great. Trash raid again.”
“Gotta be him, right?”
Both turned on their damaged heels.
“Kid needs to learn his place,” he sighed. “At least we know who to blame when the apostles retaliate.”
The two stared at him for a while, taking in the features they saw every time it happened: light hair with black tips and pale skin. A mouth was plastered onto his face—always in a frown. Rumours say he can’t even smile at all.
The same boy sat against a concrete wall, trash encircling him. Some toys like a bunny with a red scarf gently stayed by his side as if he had saved them. With his thick gloves, he held a wrench and a lantern. Looking down, he tried to repair it.
“Rudo!” A cheerful voice called. “Did you go dumpster-diving again?”
The boy—Rudo—jerked up, seeing his friend. “Chiwa.”
“Don’t ‘Chiwa’ me,” she complained. “The cityfolk get upset about their trash. There’s no telling what they’d do if they ever caught you! Besides, it’s just garbage. Why steal it?”
“...” The dumpster diver paused. “I mean, I don’t know. Those rich jerks are always tossing out stuff, but it’s still good, and I guess I feel sorry for it.” He put down the broken lantern.
“And how else am I going to afford to stay alive?”
Chiwa sighed. “You really love trash, don’t you?”
“Uh...” The boy almost denied. “No, I wasn't saying that.”
“Aw, man, that is nasty!”
Three thugs approached out of nowhere. One with a longer robe, one with spiked up hair and one whose head was covered.
“What, did you wake up in a pile of dead cats or something?” The guy with spiked up hair mocked as he pinched his nose. The others snickered at his mean remark. “Hey, Chiwa, what’s up?”
“Keep moving,” she deadpanned. The mean thug was right next to her, now.
“Hey, aren’t you worried about catching the stank from him?”
“What?” She blinked, confused.
He turned toward the light-haired guy and pointed. “C’mon, just look at those gloves. Bet they’ll give you a flesh-eating rash if you touch ‘em.” They snickered again. Though, he wasn’t entirely wrong—Rudo wore thick dark grey gauntlets many sizes too big for his hands.
The bully whose head was covered kicked the lantern and crouched. “No one’s buying this fixed-up crap. Noy after you’ve touched it. Have you seen him with these gloves off? It’s creepy as hell! He's got, like, a disease or something!”
Rudo tensed.
“Yeah, and so what?” Chiwa defended as if she did this everyday. “That doesn’t make him any different than us.”
“Ah, it’s still a bad idea to hang out with him.”
“Hehe, right?” Another one giggled. “His dad’s an actual homicidal maniac!”
The seller stiffened hard. The first bully raised his arms.
“It is soooo messed up. They’d built these slums so there’d be somewhere to put criminals, right? And we’re all, like, their descendants or whatever.” He walked off. “So now, we’ve gotta work our butts off and keep our noses clean just so people might see us as more than a bunch of thugs.” He turned back and pointed. “But this guy’s dad went and screwed it up for all of us! Dude crashed out and went on a murder spree! So, no—he’s not like us. And if you keep hanging out with him—”
Rudo glared at him with his menacing red eyes. They braced themselves. That glare did belong to the son of a homicidal killer, after all. No one knows what he could’ve done next.
“... See?” he stressfully said. “He’s got those freaky murder eyes.” He withdrew, more carefully than he should have, in a situation with a normal boy.
“They always say, like father, like son!”
“It’s only a matter of time before you kill someone!”
“Psycho!”
Chiwa stared at their backs, slowly leaving.
“I’m not a psycho,” Rudo nagged quietly, calm yet unsure.
“... Those guys were being massive jerks, weren’t they?” She affirmed.
His soul jumped in shock, mouth slightly agape. He didn’t really expect her to back him up or anything.
Chiwa crouched. “Don’t listen to them, okay?” She reassured. “You’re nothing like your dad. And a good person like you would never kill anybody.”
Rudo scratched his head. “Yeah... You think? A-and you’re a—”
“Ah!” The girl gasped. “Look at that puppy! It's so adorable. It looks practically brand new. You really are skilled at fixing stuff.”
Flushed, he held back a scream.
“Yeah, that guy’s, y-you know... I mean, he’s not for sale or anything."
He took the rabbit plush—now apparently a puppy plush. “He’s special.” He struggled as he looked away. “And I thought you’d—”
“Chiwa!” A woman called.
“Mom!”
“I looked everywhere for you. Come on. We’re heading home now.”
He froze in pure embarrassment. Even the toy seemed to freeze in pure embarrassment.
“I’ll see you later, Rudo!” She waved and ran to her mom.
From far away, Rudo heard her.
“I thought I told you to stay away from that boy.”
“But mom!”
Rudo walked in shame as the sky was turning a nice lukewarm pink. He reached a container house and climbed the ladder to get it. He set aside the curtain.
“I’m back,” he told. “You home?”
“‘Oh, That guy’s not for sale!’” The man with blue hair a small beard imitated whilst grinning. “‘He’s special!’ Real slick, kid.”
The teenager stammered and blushed as he laughed.
“Regto, s-spying isn’t cool!” Rudo embarrassingly accused.
“You know what is cool?” Regto sighed. “Being clear about your feelings. You’ll learn tough, kid.” He patted his shoulder. With an unsettling face, he resumed. “But first, you and I are gonna talk about your little trash raid.”
One single moth circled around the light source. It illuminated the many fixed objects—punk-like graffiti painted over them.
“Now listen, we’re not rich, but we’re not so poor that you’ve gotta put yourself at risk, okay? I’m in charge until you’ve grown—so chill out.”
Pausing his organisation of objects, he glared at Regto.
“They only found me this one time,” Rudo explained. “It’s really not that big of a deal, okay? —”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, alright? We don’t share blood, so we’re not family. Well, you’re wrong—so stop acting like you owe me for caring about you.”
Rudo’s back was set uptight with those words. “It’s not like you found me abandoned as a baby and raised me like I was yours,” he said quietly. “I’ve always known we were family. I was just trying to show it...” He put another item on the shelf.
“Oh, man.” Regto breathed in consequence. He beamed as a thought came into his head. “If only you could be even 1/10 as honest with Chiwa~”
The kid yelped in rude awakening. He almost dropped the repaired lantern.
“W-we weren’t talking about Chiwa!” He defended.
Ignoring his adoptive son’s humiliation, he cautiously and disturbingly asked:
“What’s going on with your arm? Did you get shot?!”
“Ah, it’s just a scratch!” Rudo squealed. “It’s not a big deal!”
The adult walked across the supposed living room.
“Let me check it out,” he exhaled. “I’ll change the bandages on your hands while I’m at it. Gloves off.”
Rudo silently groaned.
“Stop raiding the dump sites, okay? You might not get lucky next time."
The boy’s mittens lay on the table. Near them, were the old sanguineous dressings. Regto put one on Rudo’s bicep, the site where he got shot by the guard.
“Look, I’m fine,” he said dully. “It’s really not that bad.” He took his hands up and looked at them. They were severely scarred and blackened in the old reminder of life. “It doesn’t come close to the hurt my dad left me in.”
Regto sighed. "You screw up badly enough, you get dropped into the Pit, which is a death sentence” he explained. “That’s been the law in this city since the ancient times. Your father screwed up really badly enough back in the day. You gotta be better. That means taking care of you and what you care about, even in this shit heap of a world.”
He looked at his red hands.
“My hands have been pitch-black for as long as I can remember.”
People surrounded the crying boy.
“And sometimes, they give me this brain-melting pain.”
The crowd’s eyes focused on him.
“Whenever people see them, they just stare like my hands are wrong somehow.”
He ducked and covered himself, avoiding their gaze.
“Or I am."
He took one hand up in defence.
“That really messed me up as a kid. Regto saw it, and that’s when he gave me these gloves.”
He slowly looked up—maybe somebody is here to help and not intimidate him. A man handled him a small box with the handwear inside.
“Regto saw it, and that’s when he gave me these gloves.”
A man handled him a small box with the handwear inside.
Rudo thought as he flexed his covered hands.
They were all beaten to all hell even then, but they helped with the pain they gave me. And for that, I owe Regto everything.
“Back to the present,” Regto happily inserted. “You’ve gotta quit pussyfootin’ around with Chiwa. That one’s a real catch, you know.” He picked up the rabbit plush. “Some guy will snatch her up. Maybe give her this little guy and a big ol’ smooch.”
“I-I’m not some creep!!” Rudo yelled, flustered. Why does he gotta be like that?!
“Do it, or I’m not feeding you,” the man teased.
“I’m not perving on anyone, okay!?”
“Look, you gotta do something. You’re gonna regret it. And~ let’s fix that resting piss face of yours.”
As the two continued arguing, insects buzzed on the roofs. They were unaware of the certain someone listening in.
The person in a long cape stayed unmoving as they heard their bickering.
The sun rose over the dirty slums. Rudo was still desperately forcing himself to smile in a more normal way.
“If you can’t smile right, just act like you can,” Regto affirmed whilst tugging on his son’s face. “Pretend like you’re someone who does it perfectly. Keep at it, and it might just stick!”
Deciding he had enough, Regto stopped and walked away with a grin. Rudo touched his poor features to check if he were still fine.
“Always talking like he knows stuff,” he mumbled. “There’s no fixing a messed-up face like mine. Stupid windbag.”
He got up and help the stuffed animal. He really wanted to do what Regto wanted him to do, but maybe it needed more courage than he owned.
“It’s still early. She’s probably home right now.”
The youngster walked along the streets, crossing garbage bags, and people all alike. After passing an old man, he stared at one of the piles of muck. He then brushed it off and continued walking.
People say the Pit’s like a giant dump. All the trash ends up there, one way or another… Of course, trash can be a lot of things. Old food, worn out clothes, or people. My dad got swallowed by that blackness along with the other trash.
The wind howled at the back of his head as he stood on a high edge, overlooking a smaller town, equally as bad, like the rest of the slums. It sloped down, and a guillotine-like mechanism dwelled at the end.
“Send the filth to the Pit!” A crowd chanted around it.
My dad got swallowed by that blackness along with the other trash.
“Looks like they’re sending down another criminal.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledged then paused. He turned his head, horrified.
“Morning!”
He blinked. “Ch-Chiwa! Hey…”
“What’s going on?” She softly whispered. “I hardly ever see you around here.”
Rudo quietly hid the plush behind his back. “Uh, yeah, well, you see—…” he cut himself off awkwardly before saying anything else.
“Cruddy view, huh?” Chiwa suggested as a form of small talk. “It’s got to be the worst spot, in a lot of ways.”
“Well, it can’t be that much different from anywhere else here, right?” He asked, mostly to himself rather than his love interest.
“… You know why they built these slums on the edge of the city? Apparently, it’s because they wanted us tribesfolk to never forget. Do anything bad, and you’ll get tossed into the Pit… Isn’t that just awful? And even if we don’t want to, we all gotta stand by and watch when it happens, just because we live here.”
The two watched, in the distance as the crowd cheered to a death.
“Hey, Rudo?” Chiwa called and he twisted his head. “I don’t want that to happen to you. So, stay out of trouble for me. I know there’s a lot of trash that doesn’t deserve to be abandoned, but that doesn’t mean you need to go and risk your life for it. And if you get caught, you’ll end up getting thrown down into the Pit, too.”
“Regto said the same thing,” Rudo said boringly.
“Of course he did,” she giggled. “We just want to look out for you because we love you so much.”
Rudo rubbed his nape shyly. “Yeah, that old softie.” He froze again, realizing a thing Chiwa said.
“Wait, did you say we? Like… we?"
“Heh…? Ah!” She blurted out while blushing. “N-no, not we we. I meant it like, um, well, just, you know…”
Wide-eyed, he buried his hands in his face—still holding the plush—as he tripped backwards. He ended up falling on the ground.
“Are you okay?” Chiwa concerningly fretted then gasped. “Is that the puppy you fixed?”
Embarrassed, Rudo stood back up. “Uh, well, he was just there, and I was like, oh, Chiwa might really like you! … But you might not since I got him from the dump… Still, even if you didn’t like him, I figured he’d be happier with you than rotting away in a dark hole. So, yeah."
In a moment, he awkwardly held it out in front of her. She first looked at it then slowly put out her hand. She smiled.
"He’s perfect," she gushed and hugged it. "I’ll love him always."
Rudo visibly reddened’—so hard it seemed like he got frostbite on his ears. With no time to waste, he sprinted away, totally ignoring the sets of stairs on his way.
HIY-YEAH!! I’ve gotta find Regto and tell him everything! His dumb face is going to be priceless!
He panted as he cheerfully climbed even more stairs, filled with a literal ton of adrenaline.
Just as Rudo turned a corner, something blocked him. He unexpectedly fell on his bottom but caught himself just in time. He glanced up and almost insulted a group of apostles. One glared at the filthy teen below them. They silently marched on, but not before giving him a stare.
"What are the apostles doing in the slums?" A man far away asked. Rudo got back up and went on.
"Is someone in trouble?" She said.
"Maybe," he replied, distant.
Rudo ran near them, telling himself, "I’ve got to get home so I can rub this in the old dirtbag’s face!!"
A dog barked at Rudo before he approached. He twisted the doorknob of his so-called home hesitantly—and hated his move.
Wait, no. I know what he’s gonna say. “It doesn’t count unless you get your butt back there and tell her how you feel”
Whatever.
He twisted the doorknob for real this time and entered. "Hey, Regto, you won’t believe it. I ran into Chiwa—”
He turned around.
“Oh, did you finally tell her?”
No, that’s not what happened.
Another he turned around. The hooded figure wore a creepy mask with grey surrounding the black eye holes. His shadow covered Regto, who was lying on his back. A long dagger was anchored in his chest. Rudo gasped. He didn’t move. He couldn’t.
The figure ignored him and turned back to the other man in the room. Suddenly, he pushed the knife deeper into his torso. Regto screamed on pain.
“Hey!!” Rudo angrily wailed. "You get away from him, you son of a b—!"
The blood dripped from Rudo’s nose. With some effort, he strained himself from the agony—both physically and emotionally.
The being body picked up Regto’s journal or book with his loose glove and slowly walked off in the doorway as if he were mocking the boy.
“Y-you bastard…” he struggled. The killer paused. Rudo glared at him. “We’re not finished…” The person ignored his remark. Rudo groaned from his probably-broken nose.
“Rudo…” Regto weakly breathed. “Rudo, run. Get out of here… Go, now.”
Worried, the boy crawled toward him. Small tears gathered in his eyes, making them shine a bit brighter than usual.
"Why?!" he exclaimed. "Wh-who was that?! I’ll go get some help, you’re gonna be fine—!"
"Rudo!" he coughed. "Run, dammit!! Get out!! Change this shit heap of a world! Make it… something worth living in."
He stared at his foster father’s corpse in shock. "Wait, wh-what!?"
Out of nowhere, a paralyzer bullet was shot into his back. He screamed in contortion as apostles pinned him to the floor.
"All clear."
"Stop resisting."
"We caught you red-handed, you filthy murderer."
…
"What? Wait, no, stop!" Rudo desperately begged. "What are you doing? He needs help! Listen, it wasn’t me, I’d never hurt anyone. And h-he’s not dead; he needs a doctor!"
"Don’t give us that," an apostle ordered. He waved at Regto. "Look at him! Can’t talk your way out of this. Murderer! You even got his blood all over you! See?!"
The innocent quivered, panicking. "I didn’t do it!" The man behind him forced him to stand up amidst his contradictions. "The real killer ran when I hit here, and you’re letting him get away!"
"Shut your mouth, that’s enough," he barked.
Rudo gasped. "No, no, please, you’ve got to listen to me…!"
He kicked him into stomach. "Why should we believe you? You’re just tribesfolk filth."
"Enough of this bullshit already!!" Rudo snapped. "He-hey, I didn’t—!"
The last thing he saw was a bright, gloved fist.
=
Outside his house, a crowd formed with all the commotion.
"Hey, did you hear?" A bully asked. "Rudo finally went crazy and killed someone."
"Yeah, I heard it was the guy who raised him, too."
"… That’s not true," Chiwa denied from afar while holding the bunny Rudo gave her. She hugged it tight. "It can’t be…"
=
Citizens murmured as they looked up at the guillotine-shaped dropper. The hard cement made their feet sore from standing here for the second time today. The clouds prevented the usually blue sky and bright sun from showing. A dusty scent trickled in the breeze. A boy with white and black-tipped hair was hung up with the ropes beside the mechanism. An officer announced the execution:
"You have tarnished the sanctity of our beautiful land with your heinous acts of violence. Unsatisfied with hoarding refuse and besmirching our city’s honour, your soul hungered for a filthier sin: taking the life of another."
The ropes securing Rudo’s arms were raised higher for the crowd to humiliatingly stare at.
"I even if your victim was a lowly tribesfolk," the announcer continued, "we cannot abide murder. Therefore, it it right that we expel you from these lands, as with all putrescence. I sentence you to death by Pit!"
And with that, they started to chant menacingly.
"Send the filth to the Pit! Send the filth to the Pit! Send the filth to the Pit!"
Ignoring their call, the presenter went on. "You are filth, and the Pit shall consume all filth from this world."
This is insane… I didn’t do anything… So why… why is this happening …? Please, someone, anyone, just listen to me…
The guillotine dropper’s wheels rolled toward the edge of the verge as he desperately searched the persons’ faces. Though all of them looked the same—frowning—one of them stood out more to him.
Chiwa shivered in disbelief, still hugging the bunny. Seeing the far-sided opportunity, Rudo yelled. "Chiwa! They think I murdered Regto. Please, please help me! The real killer is still out there!"
…
She whispered all to but herself.
"I thought you were good. But you aren’t. You’re just the son of a killer." Turning her back on him, she dropped the plush. It thudded silently in her ears but loudly in Rudo’s ears.
"Send the filth to the pit!" The people sang.
Over.
And over.
Again.
It was very annoying, despite the situation Rudo was in. It made his blood boil. He groaned in disturbance. "Where the hell do you get off calling me filth? You’re all spineless piles of shit who can’t even piss without permission! You’ve all got eyes and ears, but you never used them to see or listen to anything."
Someone took their mask off.
"You’re just worthless bags of flesh. You’re all better off dead!… Huh?"
The announcer took his hand up. Rudo ignored that. What he noticed was the person behind the hand.
It was the man who stabbed Regto.
But something was a bit different now—the lower cloth no longer shrouded his face, revealing an even more unsettling version of his mask. A set of almost skeleton-like teeth were plastered on it. Rudo’s eyes widened.
It’s you—!
Rudo’s body was released from the ropes. He fell, deeper and deeper with each passing second. Wind moaned at his sides, drying the blood of Regto on his chest. The edge of the city was getting smaller and smaller.
Don’t you dare think you’re getting rid of me. I’m coming back, and I’ll kill you all! Do you hear me!? You’re all dead!!
He fell. He looked on his right and held out his hand toward the peculiar sight. A giant sitting man with spikes in his back. He stared until he couldn’t.
Rudo opened his eyes slowly. He saw a dark turquoise dirty sky. He gazed at it, wide-eyed. He didn’t move, taking in the rough and smooth beneath him.
"Well damn."
He pulled his back up.
"I’m alive… but… eurgh, it stinks."
No use in putting his hand over his nose—the smell would never go away. Mountains upon mountains of trash and strange structures filled the entire panorama view.
"The hell?" he asked himself. "Where am I? They dropped me. I remember falling and then—"
A loud rumbling sound cut him off. Trash-made hills moved on their own.
"People said that the Pit was like a giant dump," Rudo whispered. "It’s like where all the trash ends up, be it things or people. But that wasn’t even remotely close to the truth. The Pit is not a landfill."
"It’s hell."